


One of Those Days

by Claire



Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Lester is having one of those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Those Days

James Lester frowned as he walked into his office, not quite able to put his finger on what was bothering him. It wasn't the report of the baby smilodon in Dorset - that had turned out to be Persian kitten with an overbite. And he wasn't bothered by the pterodactyl sighting in Cardiff - Harkness had promised to keep a tighter leash on his pet, and Ianto had promised to keep a tighter leash on Harkness, so all sides were covered there. He hadn't even had to run the Connor Temple gauntlet as soon as he'd walked in as Connor had just glanced in his direction and then continued to diligently work on the detector.

Maybe he just needed something to drink other than that sludge the Prime Minister insisted on serving. Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up, James headed over to his desk. It wasn't as though he minded being out of the ARC all day - although that only led to even more paperwork waiting for him when he got back - but if he had to go through this bloody Anomaly update every week then Downing Street could at least serve him drinkable coffee.

James pressed the intercom for his secretary. "Michael?"

"The kettle's already boiled, sir," Michael's smooth tone came through on the speaker. "I've just had to ask Davina to pop to Spar for some milk as we seem to be out. Probably the SAS boys, sir, you know they never remember to tell us when they use the last of the essentials."

James just managed to stifle the sigh. "Bring it through as soon as you can."

"Will do, sir," came the answer before the intercom cut off.

Reaching into his briefcase for the folder he'd taken with him, James pulled out a sheaf of papers, Nick Cutter's illegible scrawl across the top one. Flicking through them quickly to make sure he had everything, he was about to drop them on his desk when a smudge of white across the glass changed his mind.

"Oh, for god's sake," he muttered, putting the papers on his chair. Looking around for something to wipe the desk with, he finally gave up and pulled his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. Wiping the smudge several times, all the while bemoaning cleaning staff who didn't know how to actually _clean_ , James finally deemed the shine suitable. He glanced down at the now crumpled square of fabric in his hand - cleaning up leftover whatever-it-was with _silk_ , he must be mad - before putting it at the edge of the desk, making a mental note to send it to the dry cleaners along with his suit..

Turning on his computer, James rescued the papers from his chair and sat down as he started to flick through them. Which it why it took him a few moments to realise that the image on his screen wasn't that of the ARC, like it should have been, and that his computer had, in fact, been patched into the ARC's CCTV channel. Specifically, one of the cameras in the ladies locker room. More specifically, one of the cameras in the ladies locker room that had been turned to directly face the locker of one Abby Maitland.

Cogs slipped into place and James looked at his handkerchief in horror, the furtive look Connor had thrown him when he'd walked into the ARC suddenly making all too much sense. He'd kill the little tosser, thought stopping with a grimace as he realised just how truthful that statement was.

James took a deep breath, being angry was no way to deal with the situation. Took a deep breath, and noticed he'd missed a streak of white on the desk--

"Connor!"


End file.
